Angel, Willow, et al, are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and the WB. All characters are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
Thanks: As always, to Heather T., and to Marius.
Notes: This is the first in a planned 3-part arc of "fluff" stories covering Angel and Willow's changing friendship. If you're looking for angst, serious plot, or Angel owies; you've made a wrong turn somewhere. (Besides, Angel was complaining that he needed a rest after 3 stories where I tortured him. How could I refuse? ;-)
Archive summary: First of three vignettes about Angel's re-adjustment and his expanding friendship with Willow.
"Damn!Damn!DAMN! This is impossible!" I muttered angrily as I struggled to keep my 'game face' from putting in an appearance. I didn't have time for this. There were still too many other things left on my 'to do' list for the evening.
'There! Gotcha, you son of a bitch!' I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was half tempted to throw one last sucker punch at my dreaded enemy just out of spite. I'd been battling it for the past hour, and I'd *finally* managed to beat the damned thing...
"12:00"
"12:00"
"12:00"
"ARGH!" I screamed in frustration. It was as if the flashing little numbers were personally mocking me. Two hundred and forty three years old, and I was being bested by a damned VCR! Lashing out in anger, I slammed my hand down on the coffee table, accidentally sending a glass vase crashing to the floor.
Of course, it was at that precise moment that a knock sounded at the door.
"It's open!" I snarled fiercely before I could control my temper.
"a-angel?" Willow's voice was timid as she cautiously cracked open the door just enough to peak into the room.
Damn. I scared her. I felt my heart breaking even as I mentally kicked myself about eight different ways for losing control of my temper. That was the *last* thing I wanted to do around Willow. There goes that irony factor again. The reason I bought the stupid VCR in the first place was to make Willow more comfortable when she came by to see me.
In the five weeks since she rescued me from hell, Willow has become a frequent visitor of mine. It started when I first returned from hell. We spent six days recuperating at Cordelia's house -- first in different connecting rooms, and then together as soon as she was able to move under her own power. It was the last two days of our convalescence that drastically altered the course of our friendship.
I can still remember the shocked expression on Giles' face when he came in and found a sleeping Willow cradled safely in my arms. I'll give him credit, he didn't actually *say* anything, but at the rate the wheels in his head must have been turning, I'm surprised there wasn't smoke coming out of his ears.
With Willow in a coma-like state of sleep, Giles and I managed to make some uncomfortable small talk. It wasn't much, but given the recent history between the two of us, it was a start. Not a great one, really, but we did our best despite his completely justifiable anger, and my endless well of guilt.
Although we shared a deeper, more meaningful conversation the following week, I think both Giles and I knew from the start that whatever trust we had for each other was gone permanently. I could only hope that he would take to heart the advice Jenny Calendar asked me to pass along. If he ever does, then maybe, just maybe, he'll be able to start pulling the pieces of his shattered life back together.
But I digress, I was talking about the night with the VCR, wasn't I?
"Oh Willow, I'm sorry," I said as tenderly as I could manage. "I...uh, I had no cause to speak to you like that. It's just this...this *thing*..."
Piercing green eyes followed the direction of my waving hand to settle upon the gadget on the floor. It took only a second for her to take in the entire tableau -- the instruction manual open on the table, the time flashing repeatedly on the machine, and my petulant behavior. Putting all the pieces together, she turned to look at me.
"Problems?" Willow asked as her eyes danced with mischief and humor.
"Nothing that a sledgehammer wouldn't fix," I grumbled.
"Welcome to the twentieth century, Angel," she laughed. "You've now joined the other hundred million Americans who believe that it's always twelve o'clock."
I tried my best to hold a scowl on my face, but it was useless. In spite of my best efforts a small, self-derisive chuckle escaped me at my lack of electronic know-how. Still, I felt the need to defend myself.
"It's not my fault! The stupid instruction manual is all in Japanese!"
"Can I..." Willow trailed off, moving a hand in the direction of my personal albatross.
"Knock yourself out. Can I get you something to drink?" I offered as I moved towards the kitchen.
"That'd be great. Diet-whatever you have," she tossed absently as she set to work.
"You know," I called out conversationally, "I just hope my demon didn't take notes tonight. Otherwise, the next time I end up in hell, I'm gonna spend eternity being forced to set the clocks on an endless stream of unprogrammable VCR's. Now that would be sheer torture."
If I expected a chortle from the other room, I was sorely disappointed. In fact, the silence in my apartment was so unnatural, I felt compelled to poke my head out of the kitchen to see if everything was okay. Needless to say, it wasn't.
Willow was staring directly at me from her place on the floor. It was difficult to judge whether her reaction to my comment was one of shock or of horror. Either way, she remained motionless even as I hurried over to inquire what was wrong.
"Willow?" I asked quietly. When she didn't move I reached out to gently touch her arm. "Willow? What is it?"
"I...I'm n-not sure." From her puzzled expression, she clearly wasn't exaggerating her confusion. I was startled when her eyes lifted and gazed sharply into mine while a shudder tore through her body. "I guess I never really...thought about you going back there, but you...you're making jokes about it."
A sympathetic sigh escaped me as I gathered Willow into a comforting hug. Whether the comfort was for my benefit or for hers...well, let's just say that we both needed it at that moment. Willow made that fact perfectly clear when she threw her arms around my waist so tightly, I thought my rib cage would be in serious danger.
"Will," I answered softly, "I don't know if this is going to make sense, but I've *got* to joke about it, otherwise..."
"I think I get it," she interjected quickly. "Have you talked about it, I mean about...what happened...with... somebody, yet?"
Her voice was rife with hesitation, indicating her discomfort about the subject, and yet, there she was, offering to play therapist for me. Incredible. Simply, undeniably, incredible.
"I...uh...I don't think...I can. Yet, anyway." I whispered against the soft, silkiness of her hair.
"If and when you're ever ready, you know I'll be there to listen," she assured.
"Thank you," I said sincerely and squeezed her a little tighter before letting her go. Sensing that the topic was at an end, Willow refocused her attention on the VCR while I returned to the kitchen to fetch the soda I'd abandoned on the counter.
"So," Willow asked as I emerged, "why did you decide to get a VCR all of a sudden?"
"Well, my new issue of Vampire Quarterly came in the mail today. It said that all the trendy creatures of the night were getting them, and I didn't want to feel left out." Willow laughed, but I could see that she wasn't going to be satisfied with a flippant answer, so I added more. "Most of my books were ruined when my old apartment flooded, so I decided to catch up on the whole movie-phenomenon. I even got a 'Blockbuster' card tonight," I added with a purposefully over-exaggerated tone of pride.
"Not much of a movie-goer, are you?" Willow commented.
"Yeah, well, believe it or not, people tend to take notice of somebody sitting alone in a theater." My honest explanation brought a sad, sympathetic expression to Willow's face, as did any other reminder of just how solitary my existence normally was.
"Maybe we could go together sometime," Willow blurted. Then, as if realizing how her suggestion sounded, she utterly (but adorably) panicked. "I...uh...as friends, I mean. Like two friends hanging around...at home...but out..."
Taking pity on her nervous babbling, I interrupted with smile. "I'd really like that sometime. But what do you say that we break in this baby first?"
"Oh. Okay. Sure, we could do that." She agreed happily before adding a 'ta-da' at her success in programming the accurate time.
I gave her a jeer for showing me up, but she knew I wasn't being serious. Just as I'm certain she was well aware that my sudden interest in films wasn't completely brought on by the destruction of my book collection, although that was a contributing factor.
Abandoned after I reverted back to Angelus, almost everything I left behind in my old apartment was destroyed when a pipe burst and flooded the place. Of course, since I had been the only person living in the building, the damage went undetected for a week before a meter-reader took notice. By then it was already too late to salvage anything -- that is, if anybody had cared to try.
The apartment Willow and I were in was a new place. Well, new to me, anyway. Not wanting to overstay my welcome at Cordelia's, I left her parent's house as soon as I was physically able. I soon discovered, however, that I had no other place to go.
Although the damage to my old place was repairable, there were too many uncomfortable memories for me there. As the owner of the whole building, I seriously contemplated just razing the place and selling off the land, but that still left me temporarily homeless.
Once again, it was Willow who rode to my rescue. Upon hearing of my predicament, she mentioned that she'd seen a 'For Sale' sign on a converted warehouse near the place her werewolf-boyfriend and his band used to practice. A quick look at the place, and I knew I'd found my next apartment. As an old warehouse, it had few windows, lots of open space, and very few neighbors.
Willow accompanied me back to my previous home where, to my relief, I discovered one of the few things not left water-damaged by the burst pipe -- my hidden stash of money. I belayed Willow's unspoken question with a simple 'don't ask,' and was relieved when she didn't push for answers. The owner of the warehouse happily handed over the key when presented with a sizeable down payment in cash, and we'd left the formal stuff up to the lawyers.
Willow helped me with everything -- from darkening the windows with thick drapes and several coats of paint to making the rounds of second-hand stores to choose furniture. I know she thought I was nuts for not buying new things when I had the money to do so, but I was unable to find the right words to explain that I actually felt more comfortable with used possessions. Maybe it's my age, or perhaps it's the fact that even as a child, all of the furnishings in my parent's house had already been around for generations. Whatever the reason, it was my place and my money, and I decorated as I saw fit.
I found myself somewhat taken aback when Willow continued to come over after I completely moved into the warehouse. If not for her, I know that I would have spent my days and nights constantly brooding. As it was, a part of me felt guilty that I wasn't always feeling guilty -- if that makes any sense. Not that I didn't do my fair share of wallowing, but for some reason, it was more difficult to be angst-ridden whenever she was around me.
Oh, don't get me wrong, it wasn't as if we fell into suddenly being 'the bestest of friends.' Despite her actions to save me and my subsequent vow to protect her for the rest of her life, we still didn't really *know* each other that well. Granted, I'd always found her much easier to talk to than say, Buffy or Giles; but with her tendency to babble and my habit of not speaking at all, neither one of us would have won an award for our personal communication skills. So, without any decorating projects to distract us, we often fell into these long, uneasy silences while we both struggled to find something meaningful to say.
In this case, however, time was an ally. With each visit, we grew more and more comfortable around one another. That in turn helped both of us to find common ground. Although Willow was more open in the beginning, I was starting to confide in her about subjects I hadn't discussed with anyone in over two hundred years -- my childhood, my family, my past and present hopes and dreams.
It wasn't always peaches and cream, though. I actually sent her away from time to time, needing privacy to cope with the mental and emotional scars I'd accrued over the years. Also, certain subjects were still off-limits between us. With Willow, it was Xander and my relationship with Buffy. As for myself, well, let's just say that I wasn't quite ready to test the boundaries of our new, improved friendship by discussing anything that involved my actions as Angelus. And for some totally bizarre reason, we never, ever discussed the events encompassing my rescue from hell.
The point to all this (yes, believe it or not, there is one), is that I bought the VCR mostly for Willow. The way I figured it was that it would serve two purposes. First, it would provide a distraction for when those uncomfortable silences cropped up in our conversations. Secondly, and this is kind of embarrassing, I was still somewhat terrified that Willow would eventually stop coming by to visit. Having a VCR gave me an excuse to invite her to my place without seeming as if I was desperate for companionship. Sad, huh?
"So, did you decide to break in that new Blockbuster card?" She asked, interrupting my mental walkabout.
"Huh?" Wow, that was impressive.
"Did. You. Rent. Any. Movies?" She repeated with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
"Yes. I. Did." I mimicked, but I teasingly omitted telling her exactly *which* titles I'd rented.
"Angel," she scolded in a warning tone of voice.
"Come on, have a seat," I suggested as I reached behind the sofa to pull out three bags filled with tapes.
"Oh my God!" Willow exclaimed, wide-eyed at the plethora before her. "Did you actually leave any on the shelves?"
"Well, like I said, I have a lot of catching up to do. Go ahead and pick something."
"Um...what are you in the mood for: comedy, drama, western, chick-flick? Hmm, is it just me, or did you somehow skip over the horror aisle?" Willow commented with a grin when she noticed the obvious omission.
I rolled my eyes in lieu of a witty retort.
"I wonder what they would say if we told them that half those horror movies should be reclassified as 'documentaries,' especially here in Sunnydale," Willow suggested.
"Well, now that you mention it, maybe we should get them to move most of the vampire movies to the comedy section."
Still laughing at our own silliness, Willow perused the titles once more before making a selection and heading over to the television with it. Popping the tape in, she dimmed the lights before crossing back over to the couch. Plucking the remote control off the coffee table, Willow presented it to me with a dramatic flourish.
"As the proud owner, you should have the honors," she stated in mock-seriousness.
Aiming my best smile at her, I pressed the play button and settled back into the corner of the couch as an official warning graced the screen. Once Willow sat down, I held out my arm, inviting her to lean against me. I could see her hesitate momentarily, and her internal debate as she considered the offer. Finally, she flashed a small grin before snuggling up against me.
"So, what are we watching?" I asked, almost unaware that my hand was rubbing small circles against her back. Willow had left the box for the tape on the floor near the television.
"It's called 'The Shawshank Redemption.' It was nominated for Best Picture a couple of years ago. It's a drama about a man who gets sentenced to prison and how he struggles to keep his faith. Oh, and while he's there, he finds a really great friend. I think you'll like it."
Sighing in total contentment, I smiled. "I'm sure I will."
The streets of Sunnydale were nothing but a blur as I raced through them with my vampiric speed and swiftness. Taking shortcut after shortcut, I leapt fences and crossed through backyards. Anything that would save precious time in getting to my destination. As I ran, my mind kept replaying the phone conversation that sent me on this frantic journey.
"Hello?"
"Ah...yes...Angel. T-this is R-rupert Giles," the Watcher stammered in that incredibly British way of his.
"Giles," I acknowledged. "What can I do for you?" The phone call had raised my curiosity simply because it was such a rare occurrence anymore. After everything that had happened between us, we both found it easier to keep a polite distance from each other, at least for the time being.
"I...uh...well, y-you see...I'm looking for Willow. Would she h-happen to be with you, by chance?"
My heart skipped a beat as soon as the librarian mentioned Willow's name, but then to hear that he was looking for her...
"No, she's not here. She told me yesterday that she'd be working with you guys at the library tonight, so I'm not expecting her. Why?"
"Well, she's an hour and a half overdue, and t-there's no answer at her home."
At that moment, as impossible as it may seem, it actually felt as if my body temperature dropped an additional couple of degrees as fear began pulsing in my veins. Willow's safety was my sworn responsibility. If anything had happened to her... That thought was so terrifying, I couldn't even finish it silently.
"Giles," I spoke rapidly as I reached for my leather jacket in deference to the cold front that had been chilling the normally-warm California air for the past few days. "I'm going to her house. If she's not there, I'll head for the library. I'll call if I find anything." Not waiting for an answer, I hung up and headed for the door at a dead run.
Ninety minutes, Giles had said. That would have been just before sunset. The Watcher often set meetings at that time so it would be safer for the kids to get to the library. But what if Willow had been running late?
Vampire activity had been at an all-time low recently. Well, low for a town situated on a Hellmouth, anyway. In keeping the bargin Spike made with Buffy, he and Druscilla had moved on to another city, and most of the fledglings either followed Spike out of town, or were hunted down by what was left of the Slayerettes. Fleeing or staking, the results were indisputable. For the first time in years, the streets of Sunnydale were remarkably vampire-free.
If there's one thing, however, that I've learned by living here for two years, it's that vampires aren't the only dangerous creatures hanging around the Hellmouth. As a result, I prayed silently for Willow's safety to any force that would listen the entire way to her house.
The two cars in the driveway were noted in passing as I all-but-flew up the front walk. Alternating between ringing the bell and pounding on the door as I waited, but in spite of the lights burning in the downstairs living room, no one answered. The unnatural stillness of the house left me wondering whether or not something disastrous had happened to Willow's whole family.
Realizing the futility in beating on the door, I moved off the porch and headed for the side of the house. Climbing the tree outside Willow's room left me with a conflicted feeling of deja vu. I'd done this before, several times in fact, both as myself and, more sinisterly, as Angelus. It was by force of will alone that I put the latter, uglier memories out of my mind in order to concentrate on the matter at hand.
With a small leap, I jumped from my perch in the tree to the more stable concrete of the balcony by Willow's room. None of the lights in the room were on, but that could mean anything. Stepping forward, I placed my hand on the glass panes in the door to remove the slight glare caused by a distant streetlight and peered inside.
My vampiric sense of sight easily cut through the darkness pervading the room. Working from memory, I looked to see if anything seemed out of place. With the exception of the unmade bed, everything appeared to be normal.
Just as the fear began creeping back, a slight movement from the bed caught my attention. She was there! A wash of relief flooded me as I softly tapped on the glass.
At the sound, there was another, more pronounced jerky movement in the thick nest of blankets haphazardly covering the bed. Despite the noise, however, Willow failed to wake completely. Needing to get her attention, I kept knocking, but not so loud as to be overheard by nosey neighbors.
Long minutes passed before Willow finally sat upright. It was clear to see that she was disoriented, but nevertheless, she did her best to identify the source of whatever had pulled her out of her deep sleep. I gave the window one more tap to draw her gaze in my direction.
There was a distinct weariness in her movements as she literally crawled out of the warm confines of her bed. Standing up seemed to sap what little energy she possessed, but she did manage to make it across the room -- albeit rather unsteadily. I couldn't possibly miss how glassy her eyes were, nor the redness of her nose as she surreptitiously wiped it with a crumpled tissue.
"Angel?" she asked in a weak, nasally tone.
"Open up, Willow." There was a lingering hint of desperation in my voice, one that I didn't even bother to disguise.
"Come on in," she invited as she turned the lock. The invitation was a necessity, not a formality. This was my first visit to Willow's since she and Buffy cast the spell to bar me from entering their respective homes.
I barely cleared the threshold before I pulled Willow into my arms. All the fear and uncertainty that rose up as I made my way across town started to ease away as I held her, reassuring myself of Willow's safety. After a moment's hesitation, I felt her arms circle loosely around my waist. Even through the layers of clothing between us, I could still feel the heat of her fever.
"What are you doing here?" Willow questioned as she withdrew from the embrace.
"Giles called me..." I started.
The words apparently triggered Willow's memory. Watching her face, I was bemused as her expression changed flawlessly from confusion to realization, and then finally into self-recrimination.
"The library," she all but groaned as she slowly moved back towards the recently abandoned bed. "I should call..."
"It's okay. You just go back to bed and let me handle it."
Willow was halfway to the mattress when she stopped suddenly and turned in another direction. Puzzled by her actions, I couldn't help but ask where she was going.
A pretty blush crept up her already fever-flushed cheeks as she whispered her embarrassed reply. "Bathroom."
Grinning at Willow's modesty, I reached for the phone that sat next to her computer.
If anything, Giles sounded as relieved as I felt when I explained the situation to him. The Watcher's inquiry of whether or not he could help in anyway coincided with Willow's return, so I relayed the question.
"Thanks anyway, but I should be fine...after I've slept for about a week or two." That said, she slipped back into the heavy layers of blankets.
With Willow back, I brought the conversation with Giles to a swift end, promising to call if either of us needed anything. I half expected to look over and see her fast asleep, but as I returned the phone to it's cradle, Willow's fever-bright green eyes were following me sleepily.
"I'm sorry that you had to run all the way over here," she apologized. I almost laughed at her choice of words, wondering if she realized that my speed as I made my way across town would have made an Olympic sprinter proud.
"No problem. I'm just glad you're okay. So...not feeling well, I take it?" The question was unnecessary, but it was the only thing that came to mind at the moment.
"Yeah. I wasn't feeling too great last night, and the only thing that kept me going through classes today was knowing that once I got home, I could crawl into bed and sleep for a few hours. I didn't think I'd sleep so long, though." Her short monologue was punctuated by a steady stream of poorly disguised swipes of the tissue to her nose.
"Don't you think that your body might be trying to tell you something," I scolded as gently as I could manage. "If you slept that long, your body probably needed it to fight whatever bug you picked up."
"I guess you're right," she admitted before breaking down into what sounded like a rather painful coughing fit.
I wondered, briefly, whether or not the noise would bring one of her parents running to check on her, but I didn't hear anybody else moving in the house. That was odd, considering the two cars in the driveway and the lights blazing downstairs. "Willow, where are your parents?"
"They're at a dentistry convention in San Diego," she answered simply.
The idea that these kids -- not just Willow, but Xander, Cordelia, and even Buffy -- were left alone so often still blew my mind. Sure, most of them were seventeen now, but this wasn't exactly a new development for any of them. All of them had managed alone on and off for years now. That they had all turned out so well (especially growing up on a Hellmouth) was a combination of sheer miracle and strength of character.
Instead of pondering things I couldn't help, I decided to focus on something where I could. Willow was, indeed, sick; but she didn't have to be alone. As insane as it sounds, I decided to do my best to become her nurse.
Sounds great in theory, doesn't it?
The truth of the matter was I had no idea what to do. Vampires don't, as a rule, feed off the unhealthy. Put simply, their blood tastes -- I don't quite know how to describe it...sour? -- like sour milk tastes to mortals, I guess. Still, that knowledge would come in handy for reference.
Walking over to the bed, I carefully sat down next to her nearly blanket-mummified body. As I reached out a hand towards her face, I could feel the heat coming off her in waves. A single touch to her cheek with the backs of my fingers merely confirmed what I had sensed from a distance, that Willow's usually petal-soft skin, was hot and dry to the touch -- a good sign of dehydration. With very little distance between us, I could actually hear the slight hitch in her breathing caused by the congestion in her lungs.
Okay, so I had a basic understanding of what was wrong, but then the question changed to what should I do? While I knew what the signs of illness looked like, all my experience at actually *treating* the symptoms was more than two centuries old. Well, some things shouldn't have changed, even in that large span of time.
"When was the last time you ate or drank anything?"
"Uhm, I had some toast this morning, and some orange juice when I came home from school," she sniffled.
"Why don't I get you something to drink?" I asked, standing up to head for the door.
"You don't have to do..." she protested in a nasal tone.
"No, I don't, but I want to," I insisted. The sound of Willow blowing her nose accompanied me as I moved down the stairs.
It had been a while since I was last in the Rosenberg kitchen, so it took me a few minutes to re-orientate myself. Eventually, I not only managed to remember where the glasses were kept, but I also scrounged up a can of chicken soup, the twentieth century cure all. I had my doubts as to whether or not it would actually help Willow get better (after all, people believed that Castor oil would cure any ill when I was a boy, and it was leeches a few hundred years before that).
Finding the can and a pot to heat the contents in was the easy part. Granted, I don't have much culinary experience, but even an idiot can heat up soup. No, the hardest part was trying to figure out how to open the damned thing. It took a few attempts, but I finally figured out how to work the machine suspended from under the kitchen cabinet. I'm just grateful that nobody was there to see me grappling with it. When the soup was heated, I brought everything upstairs on a tray that I found on the top of the refrigerator.
"I was just going to come looking for you," Willow called as I used my back to push her bedroom door open.
"Sorry I took so long. I just thought you might be hungry."
"Oh Angel!" she exclaimed when she saw the tray. "You really didn't have to do this."
Of course I did.
It was like something out of a ballet the way Willow managed to simultaneously eat and balance the tray (albeit rather precariously) across her folded legs. Afraid that any movement on my part would cause the tray to slide from it's uneasy perch, I'd wheeled the chair by Willow's computer over near her bed. Straddling the seat, I leaned forward so that I could rest my arms against the chair's back as we talked.
"Have you given any thought to patrolling with us again?" Willow asked in a completely conversational tone while she blew on a spoonful of steaming soup.
This was a sore subject between us, and Willow knew it. While I escorted her from place to place at night, I never went any further than the doorways of wherever her destination happened to be at the time. I stayed away from the Bronze because of the crowds, her house to avoid her parents, and the library...well, I just wasn't ready to deal with the expression on both Giles' and Xander's faces, yet.
"Willow, we both know that there isn't much happening occult-wise in Sunnydale right now," I obfuscated. "I just need some time to get my bearings again."
"What you need is to quit thinking that you won't be welcomed back by everybody." Damn. She'd read me like a comic book. "I know you lurk around whenever I go patrolling with Giles or Xander." I was shocked that she'd been aware of my presence, and my reaction must have shown itself in my expression. "I can almost...*feel* you...watching over me."
Nope, I was wrong. Shocked didn't even *begin* to cover how surprised I was. My mind raced backwards, trying to determine when and where she'd spotted me, yet I was unable to pinpoint any particular occasion.
As if sensing my emotional upheaval, Willow blew on another spoonful of soup as she unobtrusively offered her advice. "It just seems to me that if you're going out there anyway, you might as well be among friends, y'know?"
But that was the problem: I just couldn't believe that these people considered me 'a friend.' Hell, I still had trouble accepting that Willow might actually want to spend time around me, let alone Giles, Cordelia, or Xander. I could feel those green eyes piercing straight through my soul as I thought over the matter.
My sudden realization was both swift and unsettling, but then again, the truth often is. My decision was one that hit me with the force of a blow to the gut. Simply put, I would rather face Giles' and Xander's disapproval rather than disappoint Willow any day.
"All right." I caved. "As soon as you're feeling better, I'll go back to the library with you."
"Cool. So, have you heard anything on the vampire grapevine about why things are so quiet around here lately?"
She may have changed the subject, but the small grin of satisfaction remained on her face long after she finished her soup.
After I took the tray back downstairs, I retrieved some strange looking cold medicine -- hey, it was green, I mean *really* green -- from the bathroom. While I was searching through the mirrored cabinet, I came across a box containing one of those digitized thermometers. Being undead and all, I'd never seen one up close before, and Willow agreed to demonstrate it's use for me. Of course, she also wanted me to take my own temperature, 'just out of scientific curiosity,' she insisted.
What a dichotomy we made that night. On one hand, there was Willow checking in at a toasty 102, and on the other, there I was, barely making it to room temperature at a chilly 65 degrees. Since we had no basis for comparison, there was no way of knowing whether or not that number should have been considered 'normal' for me.
Although Willow kept insisting that I didn't need to stay any longer, I wanted to make sure that she didn't need anything else before she finally went to sleep. Willow warned me that the cold medicine would quickly make her sleepy. Actually, I think her exact words were "instant coma," which, as it turned out, was a more apt description. She barely had time to get settled before her eyelids began drooping sleepily.
Wanting to insure that she would be warm enough, I actually ended up tucking the thick comforter under her chin. Once we were both content with the placement of the blanket, I reached out to smooth down an errant lock of her long, flowing hair. The softness of it's silky texture was almost addictive, and without realizing what I was doing, my fingers began to gently stroke the top of her head.
"...mmm...feels good..."
Her words made me aware of my actions, but instead of stopping immediately, the satisfaction in her voice prompted me to continue. Wanting more of the comforting sensation, Willow's head nudged against my hand like a cat arching into a petting hand.
As the minutes passed, my back started to protest. I'd been sitting on the edge of the bed from the time I poured out the correct dosage of the medicine, but my awkward position made it necessary for me to all but twist around like some kind of circus contortionist. While Willow was close to the edge of the mattress on one side, there was more than enough room for me on the other half of her double bed.
I can't say why the thought alone made me hesitate. I mean, it wasn't like we'd never been that...close in the recent past. Hell, we'd even slept in each other's arms after she brought me back from hell.
But something was different this time.
"Willow?" I whispered just in case she had already nodded off to sleep.
"Mmm?" she replied without opening her eyes.
"Do you....want me to...stay...a while longer, I mean?" Great. Now I was sounding as flustered as Giles.
"Mmm-humm."
Taking the muffled response as a yes, I toed off my shoes before getting up to make my way around the mattress. One of those thin cotton blankets was laying on the floor at the foot of the bed, undoubtedly kicked there when the extra layer proved to be too warm for the feverish girl. I picked it up, and after a small detour to turn off the bedside light, I settled into the empty space next to Willow.
A quick flick of the wrist flared the blanket into the air before it finally came to rest on the lower half of my body. It took a few moments of adjustment, but I finally converted an unused pillow to serve as a decent backrest. With that taken care of, I somehow managed to worm an arm under Willow's neck, gently urging her to settle against me.
Even asleep, Willow seemed to instinctively understand my intentions. Rolling on to her side, Willow squirmed around a few times before finding a comfortable spot on my chest for her cheek to rest against. Feverish heat radiated from her face straight through my shirt, warming me through the thick layer of cotton that separated flesh from flesh.
The deep, even rhythm of Willow's breathing indicated that she was getting some much-needed sleep, but I was in no particular hurry to leave. My fingers were drawn back to the softness of her hair, so I resumed the gentle stoking I'd abandoned just a few minutes earlier. Between the calming, repetitive motion and the soft sounds of Willow's breathing, I found a few rare moments of pure contentment.
It was exactly an hour before sunrise when some internal instinct woke me. Willow was still cradled against me, although her coughing spells and fever had made her sleep restless through the night. Luckily, the cold medicine kept her drowsy enough that she never once woke completely. I wasn't so fortunate, however. Her tossing, turning, and coughing kept me from falling completely asleep, but I nevertheless managed to doze on and off as the hours passed.
Almost dawn.
It was obvious that Willow wouldn't be going to school later. She was still feverish, and would need more sleep to recover completely. That left me with a decision to make.
With it's excessive number of windows, the Rosenburg house wasn't exactly vampire-friendly. Yet, if I left, Willow would be by herself, at least until the end of the school day. Even then, there was no guarantee that somebody would be able to come over to check on her. If I returned to my apartment, I would be trapped there until sundown.
Had I been able to draw breath, I probably would have sighed at that point.
As gently as I could manage, I extracted myself from Willow's sleeping grasp. She stirred slightly from the movement, but never even opened her eyes. My inherent ability to move silently served me well as I slid over to the side of the bed and shifted to a sitting position.
It didn't take me long to pilfer the comforter and sheets from Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg's room. The real challenge was in securing the heavy fabric over the balcony doors in Willow's room. Although the glass doors were covered by those thin plastic blinds, light that invariably trickled in through them. The bedsheets to fill in around the edges of where the comforter gaped. Between the blinds and the extra coverage of the bed linens, Willow's room would be a relatively safe haven for me.
The rest of the house would remain off-limits, though. With that thought in mind, I once again crept downstairs to the kitchen to grab the orange juice out of the frig. It was too bad that I couldn't prepare some kind of breakfast for her, but the kitchen had one of those skylight things in the ceiling. It was only when I walked by the toaster when the thought came to me. Mohammad and the mountain. Man, did I have my hands full on the return trip up the stairs -- orange juice, a toaster, a loaf of bread, butter, jam -- but I managed, nevertheless.
Willow was still asleep when I returned. For the most part, she was in the same position she'd been in when I left, with one adorable difference. At some point, she had maneuvered a pillow into the space I had occupied when I rested on the bed. Even in her sleep, Willow's arms were wrapped around the pillow every bit as tightly as they'd embraced my body such a short while ago. Somehow, that simple, unconscious action left me feeling incredibly... loved.
Since my designated sleeping area had been usurped by a pillow, I quietly pulled the computer chair over by the bed. As I settled into the chair, I purposely kept my thoughts from straying to my motivations for wanting to stay. Instead, I just enjoyed this opportunity to do something that was fast becoming the most important thing in my existence: keeping watch over Willow Rosenburg.
"I would live like a free man, shake the chains from my soul.
Change my direction, to heal my reflection, stepping out into the cold.
These are the things I would do, to help me break through.
These are the things I would do, if I were you."
-- `If I Were You' by Venice
Ever get so wrapped up in things that you forget some huge upcoming event? Something so painfully obvious, you feel like a fool when you're finally reminded of it? And it's even worse when it's something as life altering as what happened with me. I forgot that my life as I knew it was rapidly drawing to a close.
My not-so-friendly reality check occurred on what began as an ordinary Wednesday night. It had been just four days since I relinquished my post as Willow's self-appointed nurse. She'd come down with a wicked case of the flu, and I'd taken care of her while her parents were out of town. It was a responsibility I'd gladly assumed, despite my immediate lack of qualifications.
But, I'd stayed with her through it all -- dosing out her medicines, bringing her toast and juice, playing cards with her when she got restless, even reading to her when she grew sleepy. Imagine me, a vampire, carefully mopping down the fevered forehead of a high school girl. Somewhere out there, the fates were laughing their asses off at me.
I know it sounds horrible, but those were two of the best days of my life. Oh, don't get me wrong. I hated seeing Willow so ill, but at the same time, it provided me with a reason to spend two solid days in her company. In fact, the only time I left her at all was for a few hours each night right after sunset to feed, shower, and change clothing.
Of course, it couldn't last forever. Willow's parents returned home on the third night. I guess I was somewhat fortunate that they arrived after sunset. Hiding out in her closet until the sun went down wasn't high on my list of ways to spend daylight hours. It was strange, but even knowing that her parents were back and better equipped to deal with her illness than I was, I loathed the idea of leaving her before she was completely recovered.
See, ever since Willow risked her own soul to rescue me from Hell itself, I swore that I would do anything to protect her. But how was I supposed to fight something as intangible as the flu? In the end, I did the only thing that I could: I stayed by her side to help her when and wherever the opportunity presented itself.
The following four days were awful. For the past two months, Willow had constantly been around me, checking to insure that I never felt isolated. Her sudden absence from my life created a vacuum around me, one that left me cold and alone. That was the first time I had truly realized how much I'd been taking for granted. I'd grown not only to enjoy the friendship Willow freely offered, but also to depend on it.
Even though we spoke on the phone every night, Willow couldn't, of course, come over to visit. And with Mrs. Rosenburg keeping a watchful eye over her only daughter, neither Willow nor I thought it wise for me to come see her, either. I'd never been introduced to Willow's folks, and I didn't think they'd appreciate me coming around when their daughter was too sick to even go to school. That also kept me from slipping in through her balcony doors as well.
Of course, that's not to say that I didn't see her over those long days. In fact, my evening treks to her house had fast become a part of my nightly routine. Granted, watching her sleeping through her balcony window like some kind of sick, stalking Peeping Tom wasn't the sanest thing I've ever done. However, just *seeing* her with my own eyes, knowing that she was, indeed, all right, was the only thing that allowed me a moment's peace.
And through it all, I never allowed Willow to become aware of my presence. Quite honestly, I was afraid that I would scare her or, even worse, alert her to the fact that I was on my way to becoming obsessed with her.
That particular night was different, though. It was long past midnight when I climbed up the tree outside Willow's bedroom. For the first time in over a week, the lights were burning brightly. Curious as to what was keeping her up so late, I stepped on to the balcony for a closer look.
Willow was sitting at her computer, typing so quickly that the movement of her fingers was a blur even to my superior eyesight. The sound of music playing softly accompanied the clicks of her keystrokes as the noise permeated through the glass and wood doors. But most importantly, there was Willow.
Even from this distance, I could see the effects of her recent illness. Dressed warmly in what looked to be flannel pajamas, Willow's normally light colouring had faded to a paleness that rivaled my own. Sickness had even robbed her hair of its usual shine, leaving it a dull, muted shade of red.
Intrigued as ever, I remained hidden in the shadows of the balcony. Although I'd been carefully watching over Willow from a distance since my return from hell, I hadn't had any chance to see her *awake* over the course of the past week. Seeing as how opportunity had knocked, I wasn't about to let it pass without taking advantage of it.
Taking care not to make too much noise, I tapped softly on the glass of the door. Not surprisingly, Willow jumped slightly at the sound, but she recovered so quickly, I had to wonder whether or not she'd been half-expecting me to put in an appearance. Either that, or she had been aware of my nightly visits all the time. That thought momentarily scared the hell out of me for some reason.
My concerns, however, fled rapidly as Willow turned to face me. The instant she saw me, a huge, genuine smile lit up her face like a giant Christmas tree. Or, in deference to Willow, a fully lighted Menorah. Whatever the simile, the sight of that welcoming smile made four days worth of tension melt away in the span of a heartbeat.
Within seconds, she crossed the room to unlatch the balcony door. "Come on in," she whispered. Having been invited in before, it wasn't necessary, but Willow knew I would feel more comfortable hearing the actual words.
"Angel! I've missed you!" she enthused before throwing her arms around my mid-section in a giant hug. Oh, did I know the feeling. My arms went around her automatically. It wasn't a bad thing, since my thoughts were totally occupied enjoying the elation of just holding her again.
I don't think that either of us knew just how long we stood there embracing. On one hand it seemed to go on forever; while on the other, it didn't feel anywhere near long enough. But like all good things, it had to end.
It was Willow who broke away first, surprisingly less embarrassed than I would have assumed her to be after a hug like that. Not that there was anything, well, sexual about it. But Willow was never very comfortable around men in general, and her ease with the situation just seemed a little out of character for her.
That, in turn, made *me* a little uncomfortable. Needing something to deter my sudden unease, I asked Willow how she was feeling.
"Like I told you earlier, I'm feeling a lot better. I don't know why, but the nausea kinda comes and goes, but I finally made it through the whole day without it. If I still feel okay tomorrow, I'll go back to school. If not, then my mom's making me go to the doctor."
"Maybe you should go anyway..." I frowned.
"Angel, relax. I just had the flu, y'know? Millions of people get it everyday. No big deal. At least not a doctor-kind of deal, anyway," Willow soothed.
"Still..." I began, thinking about influenza epidemics I'd seen in the past. Willow was so lucky not to have seen what I had seen -- the bodies stacked up like cord-wood after villages, towns, and sometimes entire cities were ravaged by a something as simple as a virus. Despite the advances in medicine over the years, I still couldn't help worrying about her.
"I'm *fine*, Angel." There was no mistaking the finality in her tone, so I let it go.
"So anything interesting happen tonight?" I inquired, changing the subject more for my own benefit than for hers.
"You mean in the four hours since you called me?" Willow teased with a devious glint in her green eyes.
With my best mock-glare, I tried to frown at her. Of course, it didn't work. Despite my best effort, I could feel one corner of my mouth curling up into a half-smile.
I'd expected her to say that nothing of interest had occurred. But then again, kicks in the ass are usually more painful when you don't see them coming.
"Oh, Angel! The bestest thing happened after I talked to you!" she answered unexpectedly.
To this day, I still believe that I could actually *see* Willow glowing with utter happiness. Moving in something that, quite frankly, resembled a skip, Willow crossed over to the computer and plucked up a paper from the desk. Like an excited child trying to please a parent, she handed it over to me without any fanfare. I barely had a chance to read the word 'Northwestern University' on the letterhead when Willow filled in the details for me.
"I got accepted!"
Isn't it amazing how much of a punch those three innocuous little words could pack? And let me just say that with that one small sentence, I felt my entire world crashing down all around me.
It was one of those 'life-passing-before-your- very-eyes' moments. I could hear Willow in the distance, chattering excitedly about her mother only giving her the letter right before she went to bed, but my mind was spinning over the implications of what she'd just said.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not seen this coming? I *knew* this was her senior year. It was only logical that she would be leaving for college in the coming months. But I'd never *really* thought about it.
Or, more accurately, I never really *allowed* myself to think about it.
Then again, when you're happy sitting in the boat, you don't usually try to rock it.
I guess, in all honesty, I didn't want things to change. Well, aside from the part where I fervently wished that the Hellmouth would somehow be miraculously sealed. No, I definitely wouldn't mind a halt to the never-ending parade of evil that seemed to march through Sunnydale on a daily basis. I could easily spend the rest of my existence without seeing another monster du jour. But at the same time, I didn't want to lose what I had found here.
See, aside from my reversion to Angelus and subsequent trip to hell, I liked the time that I'd spent in Sunnydale. I felt proud in the knowledge that I had, in my own small way, helped the good guys for a change. I loved the fact that for the first time, in both life and unlife, I actually had a purpose. I'd made a difference. And I'd made a friend.
A friend who would be leaving in the upcoming months.
I was still trying to wrap my mind around the concept when something tickled dimly at the edge of my awareness. That's when I realized that Willow had not only stopped talking but was also staring at me with a strange look on her face.
It took a minute for me to realize that I hadn't said a single word since she'd made her announcement. From some before-unknown inner-reserve, I managed to muster a small measure of enthusiasm. Plastering a poor excuse for a smile on my face, I reached forward and pulled her into a hug.
"Congratulations, Willow," I said softly, terrified that if I spoke any louder, my voice would betray the utter devastation I was trying so valiantly to conceal.
Nestled within the cradle of my arms, Willow's body was trembling with sheer happiness. I wanted to chuckle over her well-deserved excitement, but inside, I was coming apart at the seams. At a loss as to what I should do, I simply tightened my grasp and hugged her closer.
Another sharp pain flared in my soul when I realized that, in a few short months, we would no longer be able to share embraces like this one. I never considered how much I'd come to depend upon the closeness that Willow and I shared. Unlike the lust-filled, I-can't-keep-my-hands-off-of-you embraces Buffy and I used to have, in Willow's arms I found the kind of comfort, compassion, and unconditional acceptance that Buffy had never been either willing or able to offer. The knowledge of my impending loss was almost too much to bear.
Closing my eyes slowly, I leaned forward a little to nuzzle my nose in Willow's hair. While my hands traced small circles on her back, I focused on each and every nuance of holding Willow, methodically committing all of it to memory while I still had the opportunity. Even at that moment, I knew that no matter how perfect my recollection would be in the future, it would never hold a candle to the reality of having her in my arms.
Although I could have happily stayed that way for hours, Willow was far too restless to let it go on for much longer. Breaking away from my arms, she returned to her abandoned computer chair. I felt the urge to pull her back as she moved away, but I managed to stifle it.
"So," I began, not quite knowing what else to say. Following Willow's lead, I looked around for a place to sit down. The only available space was the soft surface of her double bed. I don't know why I hesitated before taking a seat. Hell, I'd actually *slept* in her bed a few days ago. Granted she was sick at the time, but sitting there now still made me…uncomfortable, as if I were taking a liberty of some kind. Realizing that Willow was waiting for me to continue with my open-ended remark, I scrambled to find something that wouldn't make me look like an idiot. Too bad I blew it anyway. "Ohio, huh?"
"Ah, Illinois actually."
"Anywhere near Chicago?" I asked, unable to keep the concern out of my voice. There was an active coven of vampires in the Windy City, one large enough to be worthy of mention.
"I don't really remember," she answered honestly
"Willow!" I exclaimed incredulously. "This is where you're going to spend the next few years of your life, and you don't know where it is or what's nearby?"
"Well...," she began rather sheepishly. "I only applied to Northwestern 'cause it's my mom and dad's alma mater, and it was a safety in case I don't get in anywhere else because, y'know, they're usually easier on kids of alumni who apply and all. But it's still a really good school..."
I struggled to keep up with Willow's excited chatter. Eventually my mind caught on one little detail. "In case you didn't get in anywhere else?"
"…it's not Harvard or anything, but…huh?"
"You said you applied to Northwestern just in case you didn't get in anywhere else. Did you apply to other schools, too?"
"Well," Willow steadfastly refused to meet my eyes as she made her embarrassed admission, turning to shut off her computer instead. "Just a couple."
"Really, which ones?" I asked with genuine interest. We were talking about Willow's future here; of course I was interested – and not just in general terms. She had become a good friend – the best I had, or had ever had, I realized with sudden clarity. Not only that, but after she rescued me from Hell, I'd made Willow's safety my personal responsibility.
"Just…well…a…couple."
"Willow…" I prompted. "Which. Ones." I asked slowly, seriously.
"Yale, Princeton, USC, Georgetown, Duke, Stanford, Georgia Tech, Virginia Tech, College of William & Mary, UCLA, and Crestwood."
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. "Is that all? How many is that, by the way?"
"Uh," her voice dropped to an embarrassed mumble, "twelve."
"You applied to a *dozen* colleges," I asked again for clarification. After all, education was completely different when I was in my youth, and I really didn't know that much about how such things worked in this day and age. I remembered discussing the subject with Buffy a while ago, but she didn't really want to talk about it. Given the short life span of Slayers in general, I think she often refused to let herself dream about events that she was most likely never going to get to experience.
"So it's a little excessive," Willow admitted with a slightly defensive air.
"I'm a little surprised, though," I teased, looking forward to the defiant expression I knew my comment would bring. Willow did not disappoint. When she turned to face me, her green eyes held that hint of fire that I loved seeing so much.
"And just what is so surprising?" She crossed her arms over her chest, almost daring me to make any further comments.
"You didn't mention Harvard on that list."
"That's because I didn't apply there." Willow's head fell forward, allowing her to hide behind a veil of limp red hair as she made her self-conscious confession.
"Why not?" I asked in utter astonishment. Willow was probably the smartest person I knew – smarter than even Giles or Whistler. While they might have had years of experience – and in Whistler's case, supernatural assistance – they couldn't match Willow's raw intelligence or as-yet-untapped potential.
"Well," Willow began, "Harvard is a…very… demanding school, and I…"
"But Will, I've always heard that your grades are outstanding." It was true. Giles was always expounding on her exemplary record, and I can't remember the number of times I'd heard Buffy, Xander, or any number of other kids ask her for tutoring while at the Bronze.
"It's not *just* about grades anymore. I know this girl, Amanda, who graduated from Sunnydale three years ago. She had it all – valedictorian, straight 'A' average, 1500 on the SAT's – and she *still* got turned down by Harvard, Yale, Princeton, most of the big ones."
"Why?" I asked incredulously.
"Because most colleges are looking for 'well-rounded' students." I could almost see the quotation marks around her words.
"But you *are* well-rounded," I insisted. "You know about computers, biology, history…hell, you're great at research, you're…" Willow interrupted me before I could finish extolling her virtues.
"Yeah, well, I think what they mean is more along the lines of yearbook staff or candy-striping at the local hospital. Last time I looked, 'battling the dark forces of evil' wasn't considered a legitimate extra-curricular activity by most major universities," Willow commented wryly.
She had a point. Actually, it was something that I really never considered. While I often joined Giles in worrying over the safety of these kids as they fought against some of the worst evils in the world, I never really thought about just how much they each sacrificed personally to be a part of the struggle.
But I should have.
How selfish it was of me not to have realized it. Fighting evil in its various forms was my responsibility – an endless debt I owed for all the atrocities I'd committed over my years spent as a vampire. It was a destiny that had been sealed the minute the Romany clan restored my soul the first time.
But what about the destiny that I'd decided for myself a few months ago? I'd sworn that I would protect Willow for the rest of her life. Like I said before, intellectually, I knew that she would eventually move on, leaving Sunnydale to pursue a life of her own. I'd just hoped that it would be a long time before that day actually came to pass.
Now that day was here, and I had to make a choice – following the course that Whistler had set me on years ago by helping the Slayer, or following my conscience and upholding the oath I'd made to keep Willow from harm's way in the coming years.
Was it really a tough choice to make, though? Buffy was long gone. Even if she returned, the life of drugs and alcohol she was currently living would have a permanent impact on her Slaying abilities. Giles was still searching for her, just as the Watcher Council searched for the next girl to follow the Jamaican Slayer, Kendra. Neither party had experienced any success so far in finding their charges and, until they succeeded, the Slayerettes were doing their best to fill the gap.
Was it truly any of their destinies, though? Buffy was the Chosen One, the one girl meant to battle the forces of darkness, yadda, yadda, yadda, with the help of her Watcher, Giles. But what of the others? I'd always assumed that Willow and Xander assisted Buffy out of friendship and/or adoration. Buffy was gone, however, and yet Willow and Xander not only kept at it, but they also brought Cordelia and Oz into the fold as well. Why? I had to know.
"Willow, why do you do it?" She had a confused look on her face, so I clarified my question. "Why do keep patrolling? Why do any of you do it?"
"Because…it's our job," Willow replied slowly, as if explaining why water is wet to a child.
"But it's not. Don't get me wrong, you…all of you do an amazing job, but you aren't Slayers. You could get hurt…"
"I try not to think about that part of it." She commented, using her knuckles to knock against the wooden surface of her desk three times in short succession.
"…it's not your responsibility…"
"Of course it is! It's a responsibility for all of us! I mean, we live on a Hellmouth. If we didn't fight all the bad stuff out there, who else would do it? That's why I applied to Crestwood, too. Just in case Xander and Cordelia decide to go away to school, at least I'll be able to help you and Giles deal with whatever pops up here."
Hearing that Willow was actually considering staying right here in Sunnydale angered me. She deserved so much more than to go to the local rinky-dink college. Besides, in all truth, I wanted Willow as far away from the dangers of the Hellmouth as I could get her. If only I could make *her* see that, though. I had to try.
"But what about the rest of your life?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, like with college, surely you want to do *something* else after you graduate." I struggled to think of the right terms. "What are you planning on studying…I mean *majoring* in?"
The embarrassed look was back on Willow's face again. "I…I'm not really sure. I mean, I like computers and all, but I also like medicine, or maybe medical research…I…I've just been so…busy the past couple of years, I'm not really sure what I want to do…" she trailed off, unwilling to finish her comment, so I did it for her.
"…when you grow up?" I teased, keeping my tone as light as I could manage in hopes of coaxing a smile out of her. All I got, however, was a sad expression.
"Sometimes I wish I could go back and be a kid again," she said wistfully. "It was all so easy then. I mean, the worst thing I had to worry about was Xander mutilating my favourite Barbie doll. Now, I worry about getting mutilated myself. Back then, there was always somebody else there to tell me what to do, to make my decisions for me." She gave me a sad little smile. "Tell me something, Angel. Does it get easier as you get older?"
What could I tell her? Two hundred and forty- odd years old, and I had the same desire she did. How could I tell her that making choices was just as difficult no matter how old you get? The only difference was that adults are just better at *pretending* that decisions are easier to make.
But Willow's simple question had just helped me to answer a dilemma of my own.
"I'll make you a promise, Will," I said, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek tenderly. "I can't – and I won't – ever tell you *what* to do, but I promise that I'll always be there to support you, whatever and whenever you make a major decision."
Looking up from under the veil of her eyelashes, Willow shot a grateful look in my direction. "Okay. It's a deal."
finis
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